The Omertà
by Nagi Kokuyo
Summary: 100 Themes Challenge. A collection of drabbles centered around the tenth generation of Vongola, peeks into their relationships, drama, and Family, ranging from K to M, multiple pairings
1. Blink

**Title: **The Omerta

**Author: **Nagi Kokuyo

**Fandom: **Katekyo Hitman Reborn!

**Warning(s): **The ratings will range from K to M, and the chapter rating will be at the start if you want to skip.

**Disclaimer: **As much as I wish it was different, I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn!, nor any of its characters, and I'm not making any profit out of this

**Summary:** 100 Themes Challenge. A collection of drabbles centered around the tenth generation of Vongola, peeks into their relationships, drama, and Family, ranging from K to M

* * *

**1. Blink || Hibari/Tsuna || K+ || 92**

"_HIIIIIEEE!"_

Tsuna shrieked and buried his face in Hibari's chest, clutching at his boyfriend. Hibari put an arm around the younger boy, holding him protectively and growling at the TV, eyes narrowed. If looks could kill, the demonic angel on the screen would have combusted. It took several minutes before Tsuna pulled away, blushing and laughing awkwardly and trying to brush off his fear. He kissed Hibari and assured him that he was alright.

That would not, however, stop Hibari from regarding every statue with unbridled suspicion and hatred for months after.


	2. Wedding

**2. Wedding || Assorted || T || 314**

The two grooms swept across the dance floor, a vision of flawless bliss—Tsuna in a blinding white tux, Hibari in all black. A soft blush dusted Tsuna's cheeks as he let Hibari lead him in their first dance as husbands.

For those listening for it, Gokudera could be heard growling at Yamamoto to _fucking stop groping him! _quickly followed by Yamamoto's laughter as he held his lover tightly. Gokudera was sitting on Yamamoto's lap, his head resting in the crook of his neck; he was just drunk enough to allow it, but not enough to let Yamamoto get lucky.

Hana had somehow managed to pull Ryohei out onto the dance floor, though it seemed that the dance lessons they'd taken had been forgotten; no matter, Haru and Kyoko weren't that much more graceful. They were off in their own little world as they giggled and stumbled over each other, their hands clumsily—and tightly—clasped as the ladies swirled and dipped without an ounce of grace.

Reborn and Lambo were drawing a bit of attention; of course, it isn't every day you see a boyish, effeminate teenager being publicly—and happily—molested by a roguish hitman more than twice his age. Chrome looked far too innocent to be near the leather-clad Mukuro in her elegant summer dress, and she may have been possibly the second happiest person in the room. He held her in his arms and fed her angel food cake—the irony did not escape anyone—and M.M. tried to make her spontaneously combust through pure willpower.

Shoichi had long ago decided that the reason the Vongola Famiglia didn't fear death is because their relationships are already suicidal. As he sat at a table trying to keep Spanner's hand from it's not-so-subtle goal of getting in his pants, he watched the wedding reception proceedings and gathered evidence to support his theory.


	3. Fantasy

**3. Fantasy || Reborn/Lambo || T || 128**

Lambo looked at his lover, back to the offensive object in his hands, and then back to the glinting black eyes. He folded his arms over his thin chest, shook his head decisively, and said, "No."

Reborn smirked and held it out. "Oh, _yes._" Neither his voice nor his determined gaze allowed any leeway. Still, Lambo pressed his lips into a white line. "No way, bastard Reborn, not going to happen."

Because there was no way in hell he was dressing like a Catholic schoolgirl for that cruel son of a bitch's twisted, sick fantasy.

As it turned out, he _did _wind up wearing the plaid pleated miniskirt and see-through blouse, and he wound up bent over the dinner table being sexually assaulted by his perverted hitman lover.


	4. Lock and Key

**4. Lock and Key || Chrome/Fran || K || 99**

Fran held it out, resolutely avoiding her gaze. Chrome hesitated a moment before taking it from the young boy's hands. It was wrapped neatly in pink paper and tied off with a purple ribbon, and she was both rather confused and touched. She undid the ribbon and peeled away the paper, and in her hands she held a small notebook. It was purple and green, and had small flowers on it. It was kept closed by a small metal lock, and a tiny silver key in the shape of a flower.

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."


	5. Heart

**5. Heart || Yamamoto/Gokudera || K || 60**

The blush flaring up on Gokudera's pale cheeks and the uncertainty in his eyes were so adorable that Yamamoto made an effort. Really, he tried. But Hayato was just so cute and nervous-looking that he couldn't help but laugh.

The first time Gokudera offered Yamamoto chocolate on Valentine's Day was also the first time he sent him to the hospital.


	6. Poison

**6. Poison || Bianchi & Gokudera (sibling fluff) || K+ || 77**

_"Haaayaaatooo!"_

He flinched and shuddered as his sister's voice rang out in the room. He was huddled behind a couch in their mother's sitting room, hiding from his demon sister and her nasty cookies. Honestly, he didn't want to upset her, but he was sure she was trying to kill him with her pastries from hell; he didn't know what she put in them, but he knew that they could be used as weapons of mass destruction.


	7. Fairy

**7. Fairy || Kyoko/Haru || K+ || 98**

The two girls giggled and twirled under the lantern lights. Both were wearing sequined dresses—Kyoko in pink and green, Haru in blue and purple—and large sparkly wings they'd chosen at a street vendor's earlier that day, and they were both trailing glitter behind them like fairy dust.

Tsuna was sure that he would be finding glitter in his hair and clothes for weeks, though he wouldn't have to worry about that if Hibari got to them first; the girls had been in his crosshairs since they'd left a glitter trail in the Disciplinary Committee Conference Room.


	8. Panties

**8. Panties || Gokudera/Haru || T || 93**

Humming cheerfully, Haru came into the room and held out a stack of clothes, still warm from the dryer, to Gokudera. The Italian bomber looked up from his work on the Box Weapons, blinking against the sudden intrusion of bright light.

"Here you go, Gokudera-kun!" she said cheerily. She was one foot out the door when Gokudera called out, "Eh, Haru?"

She turned, her smile slipping off her face as she turned bright red, ironically the same color as the lacy panties he was holding up. He smirked.

"I assume these are yours?"


	9. Vacation

**9. Vacation || Assorted || T || 296**

Tsuna thinks, as he sips his water and watches his friends, that any onlookers would label them as the strangest group in history. Well, they wouldn't be wrong.

Gokudera is stretched out on a beach blanket, shielded from the sun by an umbrella, watching Ryohei and Yamamoto attempt—and fail—to build a sandcastle a few scant feet from the water. He looks caught between amusement, exasperation, and annoyance, and finally settles with a cross between the three.

Kyoko, Haru, and Chrome are out walking the beach, holding hands and looking for shells. Every so often, one of them will pull away to pick one up excitedly and place it carefully in the bucket.

Lambo, I-Pin, and Fuuta are splashing around in the waves, making a god-awful racket and drawing stares. Tsuna is grateful that Bianchi's watching them, because at this rate, they would get pulled out to sea or drown each other.

Mukuro's boys, Ken and Chikusa, are screwing around in the sand; Ken is trying to bury Chikusa in the sand, but the paler teen isn't going down quietly. Mukuro sits a ways away with Fran under an umbrella, watching his friends with amusement and letting the younger illusionist doze in peace. When the boy shifts in his sleep and his expression crumples as if he'd smelt something rank, Mukuro mutters something Tsuna can't hear and strokes Fran's hair.

It's odd. There's no one trying to kill them, no explosions or crazy car chases; no psychopaths kidnapping and torturing them. Odd, but very nice.

He leans back against Hibari and smiles as the older teen drops what _might _conceivably be a kiss on the top of his head. He sighs in contentment and thinks that it's a shame they don't take vacations more often.


	10. Roleplaying

**10. Roleplaying || Mukuro/Tsuna || M || 135**

He mewls as strong hands squeeze his wrists together and push him up against the wall, and he cries out because it _hurts _as much as it doesn't. Cool lips brush away the salty tears before capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. His skirts are hiked up around his hips, and creamy thighs tremble as he's fucked against the wall; the lacy bow is a noose that makes it even harder to breathe than it already is. He moans against the illusionist's mouth as pleasure ripples through him and a leather-gloved hand strokes his painfully hard cock.

It isn't until later, when he's curled up in his lover's arms and blissfully, happily, painfully content that he makes a mental note to try roleplaying again, though he's not too sure he's happy about the skirts.


	11. Dragons

**11. Dragons || Gokudera || K || 107**

When Gokudera was a little kid, his favorite stories were always fantasies. He loved reading about magic, heroes, and dragons; even when he couldn't, he'd begged Bianchi to read to him. And when he lay alone at night in his bed, he would create his own story with himself as the hero, and sometimes even the dragon. Admittedly, he liked the thought of torching self-righteous assholes into armored briquettes and getting rich.

As he grew up and his interests drifted, Gokudera never forgot about those nights, and he never forgot the stories. But he had to admit, Byakuran had a talent to strike right in the childhood.


	12. Innocence

**12. Innocence || Gokudera/Lambo || T || 177**

He was all bony angles and awkward adolescence, and he was afraid he'd do everything wrong; it had taken him weeks of kisses and pleading and convincing to get to this. He was risking it all, and he couldn't go back after this.

With Gokudera's—Hayato's lips moving against his own and the pianist's hand cradling the back of his head gently, Lambo decided to screw it. He closed his eyes tight and moaned into Hayato's mouth, clutching desperately at his boyfriend's shoulders as they worked towards the bedroom. He knew that despite all his faults and prickly thorns, Hayato cared about him and didn't want to hurt him; 'Dera was ten years his senior, and he didn't want the teenager to regret this after.

Hayato lowered him to the bed and hovered above him, and there was the question in his eyes. Lambo didn't hesitate when he pulled Gokudera down and kissed him with all that he was. He wasn't nervous anymore. He wanted to give Hayato his innocence, and he wasn't going to regret it.


	13. Blood

**13. Blood || Yamamoto || T || 63**

He didn't flinch when his sword slid easily through the grunt's chest like a knife through melted butter, or when it pulled out with a gross sucking sound and a spurt of blood. He didn't flinch when the life drained from the dead man's eyes, leaving nothing behind, and the body crumpled to the ground.

He didn't flinch when blood splattered over him.


	14. Mask

**14. Mask || Gokudera/Tsuna || T || 107**

Every morning Gokudera puts on his rough exterior like it's a mask, a façade for the world to see. He pushes everyone away with his biting sarcasm and ever-present cloud of smoke, and his sharp edges. He doesn't want to risk letting anyone close; he didn't want to get hurt again, especially not by the one person in the world he trusted most.

Yet try as he might, he can't ignore that look in Tsuna's eyes that reveal that he can see through the cracks. And as Tsuna stands on his tiptoes and presses a kiss to his mouth, Gokudera decides it might be worth the risk.


	15. Sword

**15. Sword || Yamamoto & Yamamoto's Dad || K+ || 165**

Takeshi stands in the doorway and watches his father sadly. He can't even describe how much it hurts him to think of the future that lay ahead; it's too awful. Not only was Tsuna—his knowledgeable, honorable, _adorable_ Tsuna—dead, and not only was their Family—the Family he'd sworn on his life to protect—falling apart and in danger of destruction; but his beloved father was dead at the hands of his enemies.

His pops turns and smiles, and Takeshi forces himself to return it, and he hopes that his inner musings aren't reflected in his eyes. He goes to help his father in the shop, and his thoughts of the dark future drifts into the back of his mind until later. When they spar in the dojo and metal clangs as their swords connect, Takeshi makes another promise to himself:

He'll take the sword and learn as much as he possibly can, and he'll do everything in his power to prevent that future.


	16. Web

**16. Web || Kyoko & Assorted || K+/T || 610**

Perhaps it takes an insider to see how the Vongola really works—someone who has been a part of it since the beginning—or maybe it's just Kyoko. Either way, she can see it, the web of friendships, romances, rivalries, and feuds that connects them all.

Around the edges are the enforcers, informants, and the people the Vongola protect, all of them dedicated to the Family and its interests. The Vongola inspired almost absolute loyalty, but Kyoko wasn't blind, deaf, or dumb; she knew what happened when people betrayed the Mafia or broke the Omertà—even the Vongola. The penalty for disloyalty was death, and she knew and accepted that. Anyone who betrayed the Vongola, in her eyes, deserved what they got.

It is the connections between the central Family, though, which are the most complicated.

First, there was Gokudera Hayato and Yamamoto Takeshi, lovers since they were teenagers. To someone who didn't know them, they made a strange couple. Which they were, definitely, but they were good together. They balanced each other out, and together they could rally the Family like no one else. Kyoko had never seen such destruction as what the Storm and Rain could wreak together. Their devotion to each other hadn't kept either of them from straying; Yamamoto had, at one point, seen Superbi Squalo when he and Gokudera were on break, and Kyoko knew for a face that the bomber turned to Tsuna for comfort.

Sweet, sweet Chrome would follow the bloodthirsty lunatic Mukuro Rokudo to the ends of the Earth, but she'd been disillusioned for years; perhaps that was why she'd pursued a relationship with Joshima Ken instead. Since breaking away from her "older brother" and using her own illusions to mimic her organs, Chrome had bloomed. She wasn't the introverted, broken doll she'd once been; yes, she was still quiet and shy, but she wasn't as closed as she'd been.

Kyoko's own big brother Ryohei was with her oldest and dearest friend Kurokawa Hana, going on seven years together and two as husband and wife. She was happy for them both, truly, but she knew from personal experience how hard it was to have a loved one risking their life on a daily basis. She had to sit by and watch as her husband became one of the most wanted—and loved by the masses—men in _Italia _and her girlfriend training to be a hitwoman.

Yes, and perhaps that was the most complicated and interesting part of all. She was married to one of her best friends, the wife of a Mafia boss and carrying his heir, while she was head over heels for Haru and he was in love with his psychopathic Mist Guardian. The arrangement was a simple one: Tsuna couldn't have an illegitimate heir and couldn't marry Mukuro, and Kyoko and Haru had always wanted kids of their own. It was a political marriage to please the allied Families, and they were alright with that. It worked for them.

Even the fearsome Hibari Kyoya had found someone who could satisfy his lust, for blood, violence, and (supposedly) sex; Kyoko had to admit that he and Dino Cavallone made a good match. She was happy for the skylark and bronco, though she wasn't fond of the destruction their matches wrought.

Kyoko can see how it all ties together, and so when an outsider makes a flippant comment about how crazy and suicidal the young Mafiosi are, she doesn't correct them. She only smiles to herself and enjoys the knowledge that she is privy to a secret few other know, and that she is a part of something truly remarkable.


	17. Vampire

**17. Vampire || Dino/Hibari || M || 355**

His eyes widened, his mouth opened in a soundless cry, and his breath caught in his throat, and the world stopped turning. All he knew was the night—cool and crisp air around him, the moon throwing them in stark relief, the marble cold and hard under his head—and his companion crouching over him.

The pain was a strange one, unlike what he'd experienced before; it was excruciating as sharp fangs pierced his skin and nails dug into his shoulders, and then slowly, the pain was replaced with what could have been pleasure that spread quickly through his body. In the small part of his mind that wasn't either shut off from endorphins or going, _"Oh my God," _he had just enough brainpower to compare it to a snake paralyzing its victim.

And he was certainly the victim in this, helpless to do anything but wrap his arms around the creature above him as he drank greedily. A low, rumbling sound in the creature's throat, the warm slick feel of his tongue against his neck made Dino shiver and hold him tightly. Kyoya stiffened when Dino threaded his fingers in his dark hair, but didn't stop; he couldn't.

Dino tilted his head even more to the side to give the vampire better access, humming when Kyoya made a happy nose. He moved his knee against Dino's groin and the blond stiffened, moaning. He felt Kyoya smirk against his neck, and move one of his hands down to cup the growing bulge in the bronco's pants, the other gripping his hair almost painfully.

_"Kyoya."_

And with that single word, the moment was broke and time started again. The vampire growled, feral and animalistic, and Dino winced as his fangs dug deeper and his nails broke the skin on Dino's shoulder. Then Hibari pulled away, his eyes glowing red in the night and his bloodstained teeth bared in a grimace of resentment. He squeezed Dino's hardening erection with clawed fingers before standing up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

_"Herbivore," _he hissed, and then he turned on his heel and stalked away.


	18. Rainbow

**18. Rainbow || Arcobaleno || K+ || 63**

Rainbows are the promise of a new day after every storm, yet the Arcobaleno only come together when a storm is on the horizon. They are the keepers of the pacifiers, the guardians of the balance that keep the world from coming apart at the seams. Without the Arcobaleno to poke and prod, the world would fall into chaos, the balance shifting constantly.


	19. Bones

**19. Bones || Vongola & Jeffersonian Team (_Bones)_ || T || 573**

"C'mon, Bones," Booth said, clapping his hands, "chop-chop! We have a witness to question and a Mob boss to grill. Let's go, go, go!"

He was getting antsy; this wasn't just a big case, there was something hinky about it. Sawada Kyoko, a young Japanese woman in her mid-twenties, found in an advanced state of decomposition considering she died only a week ago, apparently killed by a combination of gunshot wounds, strangulation, and impalement. A handgun with her fingerprints was found on her person, along with a hand grenade, a switchblade, and a silver pocketwatch with a strange insignia on it.

Now, that was all perfectly normal; the strange part was that for the past couple years, she'd been living in Italy on and off. She'd been last seen on the arm of a known mobster at a gala in New York City, in the US on a courtesy visa, which was only issued to representatives of foreign governments or international organizations who did not qualify for diplomatic status but merits special treatment.

Brennan shook her head as she examined the fracture on the victim's ribs; it had an interesting pattern that she wasn't familiar with, something she intended to remedy fast.

"I can't, Booth! We haven't identified all the injuries, and these fractures on the ribs are fascinating; I've never seen this pattern before. There's a lot of work to do, I can't just leave."

Booth groaned. "Really, Bones? You have squinterns for a reason. C'mon, that insignia on her watch, it matches that of the Vongola Mafia Family. It's a big time crime family; don't you want to know how a pretty girl like her got involved in the _Mafia_? I mean, she's Japanese, for cryin' out loud. The Vongola is _Italian._"

Hodgins piped up as he came in. "And the _Cosa Nostra _isn't the same as the Mob, Booth. The Mob is descended from the original factions of the Italian Mafia that settled in the Lower East Side and other areas of the East Coast during the late nineteenth century."

He set his tray of slime and bugs on a table and continued, "Now, the Vongola Famiglia has been the most powerful Mafia Family for centuries, ever since it was founded as a vigilante group by a man known only as Primo, meant to protect and serve the people. Since then, all the bosses of the Family had been known by their number—Secondo, Terzo, Quarto, etcetera. After Primo disappeared, the Vongola started acting more like a criminal organization than heroes; however, recently under Vongola Decimo, the Famiglia has been getting closer to its old ways. Many of the other Mafia Famiglias are allied with the Vongola for protection and insurance, and the Vongola boss is called '_capo di tutti capi' _or 'Boss of All Bosses.'"

He looked all too pleased with himself; Booth stared at him in disbelief. "Is that supposed to impress me?" he asked the entomologist.

Hodgins shrugged. "Maybe not, but you should know what you're dealing with before you start poking at the hornet's nest. These are some badass dudes."

Booth snorted. "Believe me, I've seen _The Godfather, _all of them. I know what to expect."

…

…

…

…

…

Booth couldn't have been more wrong. If he'd known what he was getting into when he'd gotten involved with the Vongola, he'd have stayed in bed that morning. It would have saved him a lot of trouble…and a bullet wound.

* * *

**This chapter was a crossover with the Fox crime drama _Bones. _If you aren't familiar with it, I highly recommend you look it up and start watching. It is simply amazing! I might even expand on this and make it into its own fic.**


	20. Phoenix

**20. Phoenix || Arcobaleno || K || 147**

In the future-that-never-was, the Arcobaleno were dead. The circle of balance had been broken and the world was ravaged by a terrible war. The Sky was dead, and the once-great Vongola was struggling to survive. Before his death, Tsuna knew how hopeless the war was, and together with two other conspirators, planned to bring the past to the present.

The Vongola won the war, but they also lost. Yamamoto lost his father. They lost poor, sweet, innocent, knowing Princess Yuni and her knight Gamma. Friends and family alike suffered because of the Millefiore, and the whole of Namimori was terrorized. God only knows how many innocents were slaughtered during the hunt for Vongola.

Thankfully, they stopped that future from happening, but that doesn't erase the memories. _They _remember, and they will never forget.

Like the phoenix of legend, a new world rose from the ashes born anew.


	21. Garden

**21. Garden || Nagi || K || 289**

She walked through the heavenly garden in a daze, staring around in amazement at the Wonderland _he _had created. It always amazed her how _real _the illusion was.

She could feel the grass under her bare feet, cold and wet with dew; she could feel the sun on her skin, warm and calming. She can smell the flowers and the fruit; she can feel the gentle breeze playing with her long hair and her light dress. Even the sky above her was incredible; wherever the Garden was, it wasn't on Earth. There were other planets in the sky beside the moon, hanging above her as if suspended by the gods. The cool mist hung over the garden like a curtain, moving and swirling around her as she moved towards the lake.

It was a beautiful place, magical and otherworldly.

She loved it here—once upon a time. It was her haven, her special place. She wasn't Chrome Dokuro here, she was Nagi again. She was stripped of the defenses her illusions gave her, and sometimes she missed the feel of the trident in her hands. She didn't have that anchor in the Garden. There was nothing to keep her from floating away into nothing.

The mist condensed near her like a cloak, billowing out around her; the cloak almost resembled wings—perhaps owl wings.

It used to be _their _place, back when she needed him. To keep her together, from falling apart, from losing herself. It had been almost a year since she'd last visited the Garden. In fact, it was the anniversary of the first time she was here, the day she almost died in the hospital.

She didn't need him anymore.

She could stand on her own.


	22. Egyptian

**22. Egyptian || Yamamoto/Chrome || K+ || 210**

She squeaked as the crate next to her exploded in a flurry of sand, shards of wood, and apples. Why in the world they were having a gunfight in an archaeology camp was beyond her, but it didn't surprise her. They always seemed to fight in the oddest places.

Her partner laughed beside her, reloading his own firearm. "Having fun yet, Chrome?" he asked.

She cast him a harried look. "Not so much."

As soon as there was a break in the gunfire, she ducked around the corner and let off a few shots, not really aiming. She wasn't even sure if she hit anyone until someone exclaimed loudly and crudely in Arabic. Yamamoto grinned at her.

"Sorry about this. I promise, I'll take you out to dinner. Okay?"

She paused to see if he was serious; she thought he was. "…Okay."

A hail of gunfire drowned out her words. She didn't bother with her gun this time. This time, she dug into her Flame and summoned her power of illusion. Now, she had a dinner to look forward to; she'd heard that koshari was pretty good, and if _he _was paying… She hated sand, sun, and wearing pants, and Egypt had all three. But with Yamamoto…it wasn't that bad.


	23. Weary

**23. Weary || Tsuna || K+ || 205**

Sawada Tsunayoshi is weary.

It has been ten years since Reborn first showed up on his doorstep. A decade ago, Tsuna was _Dame-Tsuna, _proving that reputation every day. He had no friends other than his mother, terrible at sports, no real hobbies, failing every subject. He had a crush on a girl who had no idea who he was.

Everything changed when Reborn came along, crashing into his life and turning it upside down. Before he knew it, he had friends, his grades were improving; oh, and everyone and their mother were trying to kill him. Life was good, comparatively.

Together with his friends, his new Family, he accomplished so much. They defeated a psychopathic murderous illusionist, then—debatably—befriended said psychopathic murderous illusionist. They faced off against the world's greatest assassins and survived; they even won. They traveled to a hellish future where Tsuna was dead, the Vongola was being hunted, Yamamoto's dad was dead, and the world was in chaos; they stopped that future. They earned the—grudging—respect of the Arcobaleno and their First Generation counterparts. They remade the Vongola into what it had once been: an honorable organization dedicated to protecting the people.

Life was good.

He is weary, but happy.


	24. Youth

**24. Youth || Yamamoto/Gokudera || M || 613**

They say that they're too young.

_He bites down on his partner's lower lip and sucks on it, tasting blood as his teeth break skin. Takeshi moans—a long, deep moan that goes straight to his cock._

They say that they don't know what they're doing.

_They're stumbling through his apartment, shedding pesky layers of clothing, kissing with such ferocity that it was like they were trying to devour each other._

Maybe they are. Maybe they don't. And maybe they'll regret it in the morning.

_Gokudera's hands spread out across the other's chest, exploring the unknown territory; he can feel the muscles under his hands, rippling at the ghosting, barely-there touch. The chest is lean and tan, and bears an impressive and frightening collection of scars._

But that's tomorrow, and this is tonight. Tonight, they're high on life, and adrenaline is racing through their veins—and maybe a little bit of wine, too. Right now, the only thing that matters is the heat in the moment and each other, and getting those _damn _belts off!

_The two sets of lips connect in a kiss, chaste at first, but it quickly develops into something more. His partner meets Gokudera's tongue with his own; Hayato's bites the other's tongue lightly before sucking it into his mouth, a low groan rumbling in his chest_

_His partner smiles and trails kisses up Gokudera's neck, nibbling on Hayato's earlobe and laughing when Hayato arches up; Gokudera can feel the rumbling in the other's chest._

If they regret it tomorrow, they'll deal with it. They'll fight and argue, and maybe a punch will be thrown. Or maybe there won't be a problem. In that case, breakfast will be made, they'll talk—maybe argue—and if they _do _argue, it'll probably dissolve from yelling and fighting to groping and kissing.

_His partner leans down between his legs and kisses the tip of Gokudera's arousal, his warm breath washing over the super sensitive skin. Gokudera moans, long and deep, and tangles his hands in dark hair as the other swoops down and takes him into his mouth. Tan, calloused hands hold his hips down against the bed to keep him from bucking, and consequently choking him; Gokudera's eyes widen and his mouth opens in a wordless plea as his partner rakes his tongue from base to tip, and gently drags his teeth along the tender flesh. Gokudera shivers violently and tilts his head back, chanting his partner's name and trying very hard not to come in his mouth._

No matter what happens, it doesn't matter if they're too young. They're old enough to know that they want this, _need _this. Maybe they _are _only horny, hormonal teenagers who had a _little _wine at the party, or maybe it's more.

_Takeshi smiles as he spits into his hand and slicks himself, and settles in between Hayato's legs. He pulls him onto his lap; Gokudera instinctively wraps his legs around Yamamoto's waist, so he's straddling the baseball player. "Are you ready?" he asks with a smile that showed more emotions that Hayato could count. He trails his hands up Gokudera's back, playing with quicksilver hair. In lieu of responding, Gokudera grinds into Yamamoto, and the dark-haired teen gasped in pleasure. He presses open-mouthed kisses to Gokudera's throat, biting gently on his pulse, and then with a jerk of his hips, thrusts into Gokudera to the hilt with one push._

Maybe it's something more than a simple, desperate fuck. It might be the start of something incredible, maybe even more than a series of hook-ups. It might be the start of what resembles a relationship.

But whatever it is, it's not because they're young.


	25. Chains

**25. Chains || Sasagawa Ryohei || T || 135**

He's crouching behind a car at the curb, breathing hard, holding his shoulder because he's almost positive it's dislocated. There's blood on his face from the road burn; he's sore and his muscles already ache, and all he wants to do is go home and fall into bed. He has no idea how the Millefiore found him; he'd been so careful. But that doesn't really matter. What matters is he's cornered by five grunts, he's beaten and bruised, and he has no way of fighting them.

Not without the Ring. He could use the Sun Ring to defeat them, but that would be the equivalent of lighting up a blinking neon sign that says 'VONGOLA HERE, PLEASE KILL ME NOW.'

He shudders and unwraps the chains around his ring.

Living is overrated anyway.


	26. Action

**26. Action || Gokudera/Haru || T || 112**

Haru was mad at him. His girlfriend was mad at him, and for the life of him, he had no idea why. He went through a list of what he could have done wrong, but the worst he could think of was getting home late and leaving his dishes in the sink.

He spent three days trying to figure it out and two more waiting for her to get over her issues; when that didn't work, he thought _screw it _and asked her.

She looked at him for a moment before saying casually, "You never want to have sex again, do you?"

With that, she turned on her heel and stalked away.


	27. Pirate

**27. Pirate || Hibari & Ryohei || T || 30**

Hibari stared | _please tell me this is a dream._

He blinked | _no, still there._

He blinked again | _what the fuck?_

"I AM A PIRATE TO THE EXTREME!"


	28. After A Battle

**28. After A Battle || Yamamoto/Tsuna || K+ || 227**

Tsuna hissed as Yamamoto dabbed antiseptic onto the wound; no matter how many times he experienced it, it always caught him by surprise. Yamamoto smiled at him apologetically as he applied the Band-Aid with careful fingers.

"Sorry," he said before kissing Tsuna's cheek right over the bandage. It had just been a graze from an almost-lucky bullet, but it still stung like a bitch, and Yamamoto had insisted on cleaning and patching it up for his boss.

Tsuna grinned and shook his head. "It's fine, just stung a bit. I can never get used to it."

Yamamoto kissed him again, this time on the corner of his mouth. "I would hope not, Tsuna," he whispered against the brunet's mouth. Tsuna shivered; he both hated and loved it when Yamamoto teased him like that. "That would mean I'm not doing my job right, and you'd need a new Guardian."

Tsuna put his arms around Yamamoto's neck and drew him into an actual kiss, their mouths melding together like a million times before. Yamamoto reached down blindly and scooped the smaller man into his arms, lifting him to get a better angle. Tongues danced together; Takeshi nipped Tsuna's lower lip, suckling it. Tsuna moaned, threading his fingers in short dark hair.

Tsuna wasn't crazy about the battles and risking their lives, but he loved how they spent the aftermath.


	29. Happiness

**29. Happiness || Yamamoto/Gokudera/Tsuna || K+ || 241**

Happiness can be many things; it means something different for everyone.

For Yamamoto, happiness was waking up on a Saturday morning, watching his lovers sleep, and enjoying the life they had.

Tsuna was nestled in between Yamamoto and Gokudera in the bed, his back pressed against Yamamoto's chest, his head resting in the crook of Gokudera's neck; one of his hands was entwined with the pianist's, the other was pressed against his chest. Gokudera lay on his side with one arm hooked around the smallest man's waist, his other lay limp across Tsuna's back; it had been resting comfortably over Yamamoto before the baseball player moved.

Yamamoto smiled and sighed, heart swelling. They were both so beautiful, his loves. Gokudera's hair almost glowed in the morning light, as if it absorbed the sunlight filtering through the curtains and expelling it, and his face was smooth and serene; he was an angel, and more than that, he was _Yamamoto's _angel. Tsuna was just as amazing, soft oh-so-kissable lips upturned in a content smile, and it was almost criminal how tempting he was.

It was the simple things, like how Gokudera's hips would swing when he sang to himself as he made eggs, or how Tsuna's face would light up like the Fourth of July when Gokudera made the first move on Yamamoto.

Yamamoto leaned over and pressed a kiss to both their cheeks before he rose from bed. Since he was up before them, he would take advantage of the head start.


	30. Under The Rain

**30. Under The Rain || Squalo/Yamamoto || M || 113**

Yamamoto braces himself against the wall, his legs wrapped around the other's waist and his arms stretched out to grip whatever supportive objects he can reach. His head is thrown back in ecstasy; the other's movements are almost frantic as he thrusts into him hard and fast. Their bodies are slick with sweat and rain; everything is taste and touch and scent and feel, because Yamamoto can't see a damn thing. He suspects that this is a good thing, because he has a nagging suspicion that if he let Squalo see the pure, unadulterated _love _in his eyes, the Varia Rain Guardian would disappear into the mist and this would never happen again.


	31. Flowers

**31. Flowers || Dino/Hibari || T || 564**

Hibari stopped halfway and stared at it. Of all the things for someone to leave on his desk, this was perhaps the most ridiculous and irrelevant he could think of. A single, perfect red rose in a crystal vase. He didn't know how long he stood there staring at it, but eventually, he unfroze and stalked forward to examine it. There was a small card taped to the bottom with _Hibari Kyoya_ printed on it in flowing cursive. After he checked the damned thing for fingerprints—dammit, nothing—he reluctantly plucked the card and flipped it over.

_Love at first sight; you are the one_

He had no idea what it meant or who had sent it, but he didn't find it funny. Growling, he swept it off the table and into the trashcan where it shattered with a resounding crash. As he did his paperwork, the thought of the rose slipped his mind until he'd completely forgotten it.

**_~D18~_**

The next time it happened was almost two weeks later, long after the first one had slipped Hibari's mind. This time, it was three roses in a vase and the card read:

_I love you_

This time he didn't sweep it into the trashcan; he actually picked it up and dropped it in, and ripped the card to shreds.

**_~D18~_**

He started losing patience after the next two vases showed up, each holding ten roses as perfect as the ones before. This time the card read:

_Believe me, I am sincere about you_

He growled and shattered both vases with his tonfas. He had a pretty good idea of _who _was behind this, but he didn't know _how_ they were getting the vases into his office, but when—_when_—he tracked them down, he was going to beat them within an inch of their afterlives.

Because this. Was. Not. Funny. Not even remotely.

**_~D18~_**

He completely lost it when they started showing up in his apartment: two dozen roses on his kitchen table.

_I can't stop thinking about you, 24 hours a day_

This had to stop. Whoever was sending these was really starting to piss him off. And so, Hibari came up with a plan to catch his irritating admirer in the _exceptionally_ irritating act. Namimori High had a half-day in two weeks, and Hibari was willing to bet that the idiot behind the flowers would do it again while he was busy ridding his beloved school of vermin—students.

He smiled evilly—oh yes, evilly indeed.

**_~D18~_**

Hibari smirked as he heard a resounding crash and swearing. The feeling of triumph only lasting long enough for something very important to register: the voice was male, and deeper than any of the students. He frowned as he stalked towards his office. Snarling, he through open the door, ready to bite to death the guilty party, and…froze, staring at the scene before him.

Really, he should have seen this coming.

There were ten vases full of flowers this time, and when he counted them later, Hibari would find 99 perfect red roses. At the center of the room was his culprit, dangling from his ankle, upside down, turning slowly in a circle, and laughing like an idiot.

Dino waved as he spun around on the rope, grinning. "Hi, Kyoya! Do you like the roses?"

_I will love you for as long as I live_


	32. Nightmare

**32. Nightmare || Ken/Chikusa || K+ || 218**

"AH!"

His eyes flew open as he jolted awake, pale and drenched in sweat, mouth open in a cry of pain and fear. He sat up and rubbed his arms, trying to soothe away the goosebumps. His shirt felt like a second skin, stuck to him with sweat, and he felt too hot, like someone had forgotten to turn on the A/C again.

He could still feel the hands on his skin, holding him down while they stuck him full of wires, needles, and tubes. Pain racked through him and he shuddered, squeezing his eyes tight and drawing his knees up to his chest. He rocked back and forth and clapped his hands over his ears, desperately trying to block out the sound of his own shrill screams that was bouncing around in his head until it was all he could hear.

He didn't register the knock at his door, nor did he hear it open. In fact, he didn't know he was no longer alone until a pair of arms wrapped around him and pulled him against a wiry body. He didn't need to look to know who it was; he sobbed and buried his face in the newcomer's shoulder.

"Shh, Kakipi," Ken whispered, rubbing Chikusa's back and rocking back and forth, "it's okay. I've got you."


	33. Beautiful

**33. Beautiful || Yamamoto/fem!Gokudera || T || 594**

"Alright, sweetie, you can start pushing. That's it, you're doing great. Pu—"

_"Don't you _fucking _start with me, Doc_! _Trust me, I'm pushing!_"

Yamamoto winced, though he didn't know if it was because of Hayato's bitchiness or the fact that she was practically crushing his hand. He had wisely decided to keep his mouth shut and just held her hand throughout the ordeal.

"Yes, yes. I can feel the hair, that's it. Almost there…"

_"Waaaaa!" _The newborn's cry filled the room, shrill and grating, as the doctor lifted it up into the air. "Congratulations, Gokudera-chan, Yamamoto-san. It's a gi-oh. Hmm…"

Through the cloud of joy, Yamamoto caught that last part. And it worried him.

"What do you mean 'hmm'?"

The doctor looked at him hurriedly and said, "O-Oh! It's nothing, I'm sure! Here!"

She handed him a pair of scissors and held up the bloody newborn. She pointed to a place of the umbilical cord and said, smiling, "Would you like to do the honors?"

He grinned and nodded, and as he made the cut, he took a brief look at his little girl. Her hair, semitransparent and white, was peach fuzz on her small skull; she would have her mother's hair. She had light skin, pale eyes, and looked rather small in the doctor's hands. His eyes widened when he realized that her eyes were unfocused and dull. She didn't see him. As the doctor turned to take her away to clean her up, Takeshi put a hand on her shoulder.

"Dr. Mido, her eyes…is she blind?"

The woman looked at him with understanding and sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Yamamoto-san, but I don't know. It's quite possible she is, but I can't be sure until she's examined. If she is, you have to be prepared to deal with her disability and overcome it. You understand?"

He nodded, dropping his hand, and looked over his shoulder at his sleeping girlfriend. She'd passed out from exhaustion as soon as she'd heard her baby's first cries. He sighed with resentment.

"Yeah, I know. Go get her cleaned up and examined. I just don't know how I'll tell Hayato."

The doctor nodded and left with their baby girl. As soon as the door closed, he turned around and walked over to the hospital bed. Pulling up a chair, he sat down next to Hayato and slipped his hand into hers, squeezing lightly. She shifted, moaned lightly, and opened her eyes. He smiled gently, trying to figure out how he was going to break the news to her.

"Hey, babe. It's a girl."

She grinned weakly and said, "Really? How is she? Can I hold her?"

Takeshi nodded and kissed her cheek.

"Yes, really. Hayato-chan, she's beautiful, just like her mother. Except…"

Hayato's eyes widened with worry and fear.

"Except what?" Takeshi wouldn't meet her eyes. "_What_?" she demanded.

He swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat, and said softly, "Dr. Mido believes that she may be blind."

The bomber took a deep breath and, calmly, said, "Well, if she is blind then we'll just have to find a way to work around that." She didn't leave any room for argument, not that Yamamoto would.

If she _was_ blind…well, that would really suck. It would certainly put a damper on their day, but they would find a way to deal. Yamamoto decided then and there that it didn't matter. It didn't matter about her eyes. She was their daughter—_their_ daughter—and that was all that mattered in the end.

_Holy shit, I'm a father._


	34. Rivalry

**34. Rivalry || Gokudera & Ryohei || K+ || 244**

The three thieves sprinted down the back alley, their backs to the police sirens and the flashing lights, their pockets filled to the brim with their prizes. By the time the cops figured out which way they'd run, they would be long gone. Up ahead was their getaway car. Just a few…more…fe—_hisss_!

The air in the back tire released as it blew out. A man's voice broke the silence. "You always have to be first, don't you?" A chuckle followed as two figures stepped into the light—both men with pale hair, one tan, the other white as a ghost. The older one grinned. "You were taking too long," he chided.

The thieves looked between the two, then at each other. A silent message passed among them, a message that didn't go unseen. The first noticed, and he smirked, waving a piece of dynamite in the air with one hand and a handgun in the other. "I wouldn't try that if I were you."

Before either the thieves or his partner could respond, he shot forward. Whacking the first over the butt with his gun, he buried his foot in the second's stomach and delivered an overhand punch, taking both out in a few short moves. With a single low swing of his foot, he swept the thief's feet out from under him and knocked him to the ground. Gokudera smirked smugly at his acquaintance. Ryohei laughed and shook his head.

"Show off."


	35. Fruit

**35. Fruit || Daemon Spade & Giotto || T || 173**

He was walking through the Garden, his eyes at half-mast. A cunning voice whispered in his ears, invisible fingers plucking at his clothes, drawing him closer.

Before he knew it, he was standing at the base of the Tree. He turned and met the mix-matched eyes of the Serpent; he shivered as the snake settled around his shoulders. The Serpent nuzzled him, his slick scales sending ghostly fingertips dancing up his spine.

He tilted his head up to stare at the rounded crimson jewels spotted among emerald leaves. One was hanging above his head just out of reach.

Standing on his tiptoes, he reached up towards the shining red apple. His fingertips were a hairsbreadth away from the red skin and he…jolted awake in bed, heart beating against his ribs. He took several deep breaths to calm himself and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were filled with humor.

_That was close, but not quite. Better luck next time, Daemon._

Across the castle, a sly smile spread in the darkness.

_I'll win eventually, Vongola._


	36. Movie

**36. Movie || Tsuna, Gokudera, Yamamoto || T || 99**

Tsuna learned a long time ago that were simply types of movies he could not watch with his friends:

Any type of sports movie was off-limits when it came to Yamamoto, for obvious reasons. He'd spend the entire film shouting obscenities and corrections at the screen, criticizing the mistakes and blunders. Yamamoto was not a serious person, but he took his sports very, _very _seriously.

Historical films and movies dealing with mythology or religion were subject of great criticism and degradation from Gokudera, who regarded all of it with incredible distrust.

Disney movies were strictly off-limits for both of them.


	37. Red

**37. Red || Giotto/G., Giotto/Cozarto || K+ || 131**

You're not him. Your hair is a shade darker, skin a shade lighter. Watching you sleep, in the half light, I can almost pretend it's him sleeping beside me. Do not get me wrong, I care for you, I do. But you're not him. It's been almost a year since we faked his death and I watched him walk away from me, and it's been nine months since I found solace in your arms. I don't regret a moment of it, this journey of ours. But you're not him.

Green eyes crack open and blink up at me sleepily, blurrily. "Giotto? Is something wrong?"

You're perceptive, even when you're still half-asleep. I shake my head and kiss your hand. "No, my dear friend, go back to sleep."

You'll never be him.


	38. Life

**38. Life || TYL!Tsuna || K || 86**

He stands under the trees at his gravesite, looking down at his empty coffin with something akin to amusement. He held his journal in his hands; he watched as the account of the final stage of the war appeared on previously blank pages. As the ghost writer scrawled the final words, he smiled and set the book down on the coffin lid.

For a man who'd just returned to life, he surprisingly calm; he suspected that the freak-out would come later, followed by lots of wine.


	39. Henshin

**39. Henshin || Hibari/Yamamoto/Gokudera || T || 296**

When he'd asked, Dino had said that the first always hurt the most. The next one didn't hurt as much; neither did the one after that. Eventually, you even start to like the pain.

As the needle pierced his skin time after time, Yamamoto rather doubted it. Both Dino and the tattoo artist had tried to persuade him against getting it on his hipbone—"Bone hurts worst"—but he'd been adamant and hadn't been swayed.

Now he wished he'd listened to them. Getting a tattoo and being shanked by a sword—turns out, two completely different types of pain.

He cried out, tears pricking in his eyes, as Hibari squeezed the tender area mercilessly. "You," Hibari said absently, "are an idiot."

Gokudera clicked his tongue and pulled Hibari's hand away, entwining their fingers. "You don't touch new tattoos," he chided…and then proceeded to poke the inflamed ink—a cloud with a lightning bolt and raindrops. Yamamoto hissed, because his hip was on freaking fire and both of his boyfriends insisted on freaking touching it.

"But, Takeshi, you _are _an idiot. Why did you get this?" He scowled at Yamamoto while Hibari inspected it again; at least this time, he kept his hands off.

Yamamoto shrugged. "No real reason, I just…did. I was thinking of you two when I got it, though."

He suddenly had two sets of eyes boring into his, and he explained, "You know, the cloud, storm…" He grinned when Gokudera's face turned crimson and Hibari blinked, the only sign of surprise Yamamoto was likely to get.

He lowered his shirt over the tattoo and kissed both of them briefly before they had the chance to react, ducked under Hibari's punch, and made it out the door before either of them could grab him.


	40. Fear

**40. Fear || Hibari/Tsuna || T || 261**

He could hear footsteps getting farther away. He listened carefully, waiting for them to return, but nothing was forthcoming.

Well, what was the sense in that? Here he was, tied up, and blind. His shoulders were starting to hurt in earnest, and Hibari wasn't even here to enjoy the mess he'd left Tsuna in. It was confusing and made his heart pump faster, nervous and unsure, like trying to play a high stakes game when someone kept changing the rules.

In the silent dark of the bedroom—his world confined to the abyss in front of his eyes, the chill of the ceiling fan that sent brisk air over his bare chest, the silk sheets, soft and smooth beneath him—he considered his options. It wasn't as if he couldn't get away. After all, he had his legs free, for whatever reason. He could probably rub his head on something enough to get the blindfold off. Then again, there were the ropes that seemed impervious to any of his attempts to remove them, and that had been _such_ a dirty trick, very much deserving of retaliation once he was free. In the meantime, he finally gave, realizing he wasn't going anywhere until Hibari let him go.

Speaking of which, where was the other man anyway? He listened again, careful not to move, holding his breath in silence to aid his ears. Still, there was nothing, and so he waited, patiently at least for him.

A chilling thought struck him. Kyoya wasn't _actually_ going to leave him here like this, was he?


	41. Citric Acid

**41. Citric Acid || Yamamoto/Gokudera || T || 162**

Yamamoto squirmed on the stool, yawning; he tried to stifle it, but Gokudera growled and gave him the stink eye. He smiled apologetically. "Sorry, 'Dera. I'm just not that into chemistry."

Gokudera scowled and slammed the textbook closed. This wasn't working. There had to be some other way to get this idiot to remember the rudimentary acids… His eyes twinkled and she smirked; Yamamoto looked at him warily, because when Gokudera started smirking like that, nothing good could come of it.

Gokudera grabbed an orange left over from lunch and started peeling it. He took a bite of a slice and grabbed Yamamoto's shirtfront.

"Gokudera, what are you d—mmph!"

A pair of lips covering his own silenced him. When Yamamoto's mouth opened to welcome Gokudera's tongue, the bomber slipped part of the orange into it.

When they pulled away panting several minutes later, Gokudera was in Yamamoto's lap, the baseball player's hands were up his shirt, and he gasped, "Citric acid."


	42. Future

**42. Future || TYL!Hibari & Tsuna || T || 193**

Tsuna winced as he picked himself up off the ground again after being pounded down by the future Hibari for the nth time. He was getting tired of being punched and kicked, and beaten time and time again by his older Cloud Guardian, but he didn't complain. He didn't complain because he knew _why _Hibari was being so vicious.

Because every time that his tonfa or body made contact with Tsuna's, he could feel bone crunch and muscle give. With every discolored bruise that mottled Tsuna's skin, every cut and scrape, Hibari was reassured that the young Vongola Decimo was alive, breathing, and most importantly, _not _lying cold and stiff in a wooden coffin.

Hibari had barely said a word to him, but Tsuna knew. Whether it was his Vongola Intuition or something else, he knew. With every strike, every hit, every flash of metal, Tsuna knew that future Hibari had been there. It was there in his scathing admonishments and the glint in his eye; he had been there when the Millefiore killed his future self.

And he needed to confirm Young Tsuna's existence, because big, bad, bloodthirsty Hibari Kyoya felt guilty.


	43. Tactical Retreat

**43. Tactical Retreat || Ryohei/I-Pin || K+ || 120**

It was hanging there, taunting him, half-in and half-out of the dresser drawer. Pink and curvy and undeniably _calling _to him, and it was freaking him out. His instincts were telling him it was time to _run, dude, run!_, but for some reason, he inexplicably wanted to reach out and touch it. For a moment, he couldn't remember why he was in her room, feet glued to the floor and unable to follow mental commands to _move._

A book. He'd wanted to bury a book I-Pin had on Chinese martial arts. All he needed was the book.

So why was he standing there like a statue staring at her bra?

"Sasagawa-san? What are you doing in my room?"

_Tactical retreat!_


	44. Wings

**44. Wings || Byakuran || K || 59**

He could feel the power raging through him, bolts of energy stimulating every muscle, blood cell, and nerve. He could feel the warmth of the stolen flames alight in his heart. His mind was racing at a mile a second, his heart pounding in his chest. He had always been above humans, but now…

Now, he was a god.


	45. Kiss

**45. Kiss || Hibari/Gokudera || T || 129**

It started harsh, demanding, and dominating, a fight of wills between two forces that refused to yield; it dissolved into needy moans and lips moving _together_ instead of _against _each other. Gokudera's arms slid around Hibari's neck, his fingers sliding through midnight hair, head tilting to find a better angle; the skylark held the bomber's hips in a tight, almost painful grip.

It wasn't their first and it wasn't their last, and it was like every other kiss they'd shared; by those standards, it shouldn't have been anything special.

But it _was_ special.

It was special because when they broke apart, Hibari whispered against Gokudera's lips, "You are _mine._"

That was the closest he'd ever come to saying _I love you, _and it meant more to Gokudera than anything.

**I am not blind. I check my story traffic stats. I know how many people read this. Let me break it down.**

**Total Reviews: 12**

**Visitors In JULY: 427  
**

**Now, what's wrong with those numbers? I'd better start getting some reviews, or I'll stop uploading. Period. And have up to chapter 63 written already, so it'd be a pity for those to go unread.**

**Your choice. *Blatant blackmail***


	46. During A Battle

**46. During A Battle || Yamamoto || T || 190**

Yamamoto tapped the headset, trying to get anything but static; the explosion must have caused interference. Around him the battle raged on; the distinct smells of metallic blood and smoke infiltrated his nose, stinging and making his eyes water. Blood pounded in his ears, blocking out the screams of pain and anger that filled the air of the warehouse. His sword was slick with blood of the enemies, and it would only be later that he would realize how he left a trail of bodies in his wake. The cacophony of fire being traded between the Vongola and the enemy was deafening; it hurt his ears and grated on his nerves.

Somewhere to his right, gunfire exploded, pummeling the warehouse wall with lethal slugs. He dropped to his knees, ducking behind a low wall and cursing. He couldn't get anyone over the comms, and that worried him. There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, and something wasn't right. Call it soldier's sense, call it swordsman's intuition—he didn't care, all he knew was that something didn't feel right about all this.

Something was very, very wrong.

**Apparently, it was wrong of me to blackmail my readers. But still, it would be nice to get a little positive encouragement once in a while.**


	47. Vortex

**47. Vortex || Tsuna || K+ || 91**

It is more than a flash, a kaleidoscope of color, and the sensation of being spread too thin. It is being pressed hard from all directions; vision going fuzzy and iron band squeezing your chest, making breathing impossible. Lungs burning because you can't draw in air—it is feeling as though your entire body is being forced through a very small tube by a great suction.

It is nothing compared to the feeling of being thrust into a world of war by the person he thought he could always trust: himself.


	48. Progress

**48. Progress || Reborn/Tsuna || T || 84**

It had been over a year since Reborn first crashed into his life and started it down the whirlpool of chaos he'd been living in since. Reborn had pushed, kicked, and blown him up to get his point across, but it had worked. That tiny baby hitman had turned a worthless, useless _nothing _into a Mafia boss, someone who people could look up to and respect.

As Tsuna declared his will to fight Jager and the Vindice, anyone could see that he'd made progress.


	49. Upside Down

**49. Upside Down || Yamamoto/Gokudera || T || 69**

Yamamoto stared and blinked, sure he was imagining things. No, when he looked again, it was still there. He laughed and shook his head, grinning. It was quite a sight, his silver-haired boyfriend hanging upside down, arms crossed over his chest and his shirt slipping. Yamamoto let his eyes drag over him—tight jeans, sharp hipbones, flat stomach...angry slitted eyes.

"Don't just stand there, fucking idiot! Get me down!"


	50. Unseen

**50. Unseen || Hibari/Tsuna || T || 97**

It was quick kisses between classes, eating lunch together on the roof, and walking home afterschool. It was heated kisses and roaming hands, and hot make-out sessions in the disciplinary office.

It wasn't a secret, but it wasn't something Hibari wanted advertised. He knew his reputation would survive knowledge of his dating an herbivore, that wasn't what he was worried about; he was worried that once word got out, enemies hoping to hurt him would go after said herbivore. As long as their relationship went unseen, Tsunayoshi would be safe.

Well, relatively safe.


	51. The Rules

**51. The Rules || Assorted || T || 524**

**1. **Don't get between Gokudera and his morning coffee.

**2. **Do not break the omertà; you will be hunted down like a rat and painfully disposed of.

**3. **You eat Chrome's cooking. And you don't complain**. **Ever. No matter how bad it is.

**4. **However...enrolling her in culinary classes is never a bad idea.

**5. **Hibari's territory is OFF-LIMITS unless your name is Sawada Tsunayoshi.

**6. **Unless you're Yamamoto, you don't touch Gokudera's explosives or Box Weapons without having a serious death wish.

**7. **It is common knowledge that whenever Yamamoto goes off on a mission without him, Gokudera becomes a ticking time bomb. Enough said.

**8. **Likewise, whenever Gokudera is off on a mission without Yamamoto, people start seeing the resemblance between the Rain Guardian and Squalo.

**9. **Hitting on or harassing Chrome is a _very _bad idea**. **Unless you _want _five overprotective "big brothers", one Varia illusionist, and a psychopath with pineapple hair out for blood.

**10. **On that note, it is _also _unwise to stare at a certain brunet boss's behind, for he is a triple threat of naive, gay, and taken (and he who speaks for said brunet is a triple threat of bloodthirsty, sociopathic, and possessive).

**11. **It is well known that Gokudera suffers from JMS (Jealous Manic Syndrome). That said, flirting with a certain Japanese swordsman is just _asking _for trouble**.**

**12. ***Ahem* If you don't mind, would you _please _remember to put the toilet seat down?

**13. **Do not ask Gokudera about his cryptid theories. Seriously. Don't.

**14. **Don't play a game involving hitting, running, or throwing and expect Yamamoto to play fair.

**15. **Sharpies are to always be kept in a locked drawer. Period, good-bye, the end.

**16. **Yes, Colonello and Lal Mirch have a _thing. _No, you may not bring it up.

**17. **Yes, Yamamoto's car is a piece of crap. However, it stays, no matter what anyone says.

**18. **Don't ask about the broken doors.

**19. **_Mission Impossible_ is not an acceptable soundtrack when on surveillance. Ditto on Kim Possible and Pink Panther.

**20.** Never, ever put yourself in a situation that puts you on the receiving end of Hibari Kyoya's anger. Ever.

**21. **Karaoke Night is now prohibited when mixed with alcohol and a video camera.

**22. **If any tapes labeled KARAOKE NIGHT are found, they are to be immediately turned into Decimo himself. They will then be thoroughly destroyed.

**23.** You don't eat Bianchi's cooking under _any circumstances._

**24. **Kufufufufu…

**25.** No matter what, if Chrome calls from the middle of Italy, we will fly out there in a heartbeat to help her, despite two of us being total crap at the language.

**26.** To all newcomers, asking about the fire extinguishers in every room is not a good idea—just accept that they are there for a reason.

**27.** Never ask Squalo about his hair.

**28. **Yes, something happened between Squalo and Yamamoto in the future; no, you may not mention it. At. All.

**29. **Don't ask Chrome about the eye or her organs. Period. Those are forbidden subjects; we just got her to open up, and we'll be damned if you screw it up now.

**30. **Respect the ladies or pay the consequences. In fact, just respect everyone and keep your nose clean. Then maybe you'll get to keep it.


	52. Princess

**52. Princess || Gamma/Yuni || K+ || 100**

Her laughter rang through the hallways of the headquarters, bringing smiles to all who heard. She had that effect on people; just like the shining sun, she brought happiness to everyone. She took her job as Boss seriously, but she wasn't serious. She was the light that shone on the Giglio Nero, kindly surrounding everyone she met.

He was loyal to her, willing to serve and protect her until the very end. When she flashed that smile his way, he felt like they were the only ones in the world. She was his princess, and he would never leave her.


	53. Prince

**53. Prince || Bel/Fran || T || 77**

Teeth bit down on the illusionist's collarbone, sharp and unforgiving; it drew blood and a moan from Fran. Bel grinning wolfishly and licked the wound, sending shivers down his spine; he suckled the skin, leaving a mark, before moving down the boy's chest, trailing bites and kisses in his wake. Fran squirmed and bucked up against Bel; he gasped and froze when their groins brushed. Bel smirked and laughed against pale skin.

"Froggy belongs to the Prince."


	54. King

**54. King || Varia || T || 133**

In the Kingdom of Varia, there was no question of who was King. Xanxus was king; he was the drunken, angry, undefeatable, irrefutable king. No one was going to challenge him for his throne. And if Xanxus was king, Squalo was the loud, violent, explosive queen. He was more of a leader than his king, and held just as much power. Bel was the crazy prince, because every family has that one relative that's completely off his rocker and every kingdom has that one royal who wouldn't mind watching it go up in flames. Fran was the mouthy outsider who managed to get away with his taunting and teasing; Levi was the court jester who was never getting anywhere; Lussuria was the motherly matron, always looking out for everybody.

But Xanxus was king.


	55. Queen

**55. Queen || Yamamoto/Gokudera || K+ || 52**

One of Yamamoto's teammates joked, after a particularly exciting game, that Yamamoto was the undisputed king of the diamond. Ryohei had then exclaimed, quite loud, that if Yamamoto was the king, that made Gokudera queen.

This wouldn't have been so bad if the afore mentioned silveret hadn't been within earshot…and bombing range.


	56. Falling

**56. Falling || Hibari/Tsuna || K || 328**

**This chapter is for the incredible Dumti, who took the time to review EVERY FRIKKIN' CHAPTER! I'm so lucky to have such an enthusiastic reader, so this is a gift for you. I hope you enjoy this, my dear! ~Nagi  
**

Falling in love with Sawada Tsunayoshi had been unlike anything he'd ever experienced; it had been easy and slow. He'd been in over his head before he'd even realized it, drowning in the warm caramel eyes that could see everything, and he'd never felt the need to come up for air or seek isolation. It was not a whirlwind romance. On the contrary, it had been filled with shared lunches in Hibari's office; afternoons spent lying on their backs on the roof, watching the clouds pass above them in silence; evenings that were watching movies and eating dinner in Hibari's apartment or at the Sawada household.

It was trusting that Tsuna could take care of himself, but still needed his Cloud Guardian to be strong. It was a flash of emotion in deadpan eyes and a fleeting smile; it was a shoulder pressing into his arm when they were alone, hands intertwined.

Hibari was a violent, sadistic delinquent who despised weakness; love was a weakness, the most pathetic of all. On the battlefield, he was the embodiment of pain and suffering and death, and he would never forget the pure terror in his victims' eyes; he didn't _want _to forget, he wanted to remember—needed to remember. He was an urban legend, someone spoken only by the very bravest, and only then behind soundproofed walls with the hatches battened down, the doors locked, and the hour absurd.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself from taking one look into the caring, innocent, _knowing _eyes of the younger boy and finding that his carefully constructed armor had a crack. It was a small crack, but just big enough for Tsuna to slip through to touch his heart. It was enough to turn the most feared person in Namimori into glorified Jell-O. Deadly, fatal Jell-O with a dangerous aura, but still: Jell-O.

From the first look, Hibari Kyoya knew he was falling, and for the first time, he really didn't mind.


	57. Eyes

**57. Eyes || Tsuna/Gokudera || T || 109**

"Here." Tsuna holds his hand, pulling him along. Gokudera follows carefully, hands shaking in his. The white bandages around his eyes are stained with red, and Tsuna swallows something back. He pulls Gokudera to their bedroom, sits him on the bed, and tells him, "I'll be in the bathroom."

Gokudera nods, mouth open slightly, like he wants to talk, but Tsuna leaves before he can.

When he gets into the bathroom, he locks the door and turns on the shower. Then he throws up in the toilet, stomach clenching and body shaking. He can still see the Phantom pressing into his eye sockets, pressing so hard they—

More vomit.


	58. Fading

**58. Fading || Yamamoto/Gokudera || T || 366**

He was so cold, so very, very cold, despite the burning debris around him. Icy rain hit his battered body like a thousand and one tiny needles, but it did nothing to quench the fire. His face hurt from lying against the gravel and his legs—he couldn't even _feel_ his legs anymore. They were pinned under a collapsed support beam, and whenever he tried to move, waves of red-hot agony ripped through him.

Rain pattered against his face, stinging the bruised and bloodied cheek, and Gokudera whined. His heart was pounding in his chest, beating against a bruised and battered ribcage, and every breath hurt like hell. His silver hair was matted with congealing blood coming from the gashes and lacerations caused by the explosion and the collapsing building, steadily pouring his lifeblood onto the gravel, staining the rocks crimson. He was proud to say that not all the blood on him was his own; you should see the other guy.

His breaths was coming in short gasps now, every inhale and exhale agony. His vision was ebbing away, going black around the edges like an old film reel burning up. Dimly, he could hear people calling. Their voices sounded familiar, but he couldn't place where he'd heard them before. He wasn't even sure what they were saying. It sounded familiar—something he'd heard thousands of times before—but he just couldn't distinguish the words. There was one voice, very close to him, that stood out from the rest. _"…to! Hay…to! Hayato! Dammit, answer me! Please…"_

He gasped, eyes going wide with pain, as he was dragged out from the rubble. His legs, his ribs, his _everything _screamed in protest. He tried to answer, to call out, to make any sound whatsoever, but his lips wouldn't move and his vocal chords refused to make any sound. He could feel himself fading…fading…fading fast, and he desperately hung onto one thought, one last identifying thought, as his body went numb.

_I am Gokudera Hayato. I am the Storm Guardian_

_I am Hayato…_

_I am…_

His world went black, and just as the emergency team reached them, in his lover's arms, Gokudera "Smokin' Bomb" Hayato breathed his last.

**Okay, I'll make this quick! I posted a poll on my profile, check it out! I still have a ways to go before this ends, so I'm in dire need of ideas. Go vote for what pairing you'd like to see and what type of story, or if you'd like, you can simply tell me in a review!**


	59. Underwear

**59. Underwear || Ryohei/Hibari || M || 290**

He was kneeling on a concrete floor, his knees sore and his foot brushing against a janitor's cart, when he pulled the zipper down with his teeth. He traced the growing shape in the other teen's damp underwear—black, with little Hibird's printed on them; Kyoya hissed and tightened his grip on the boxer's shoulder.

Ryohei grinned at the dark-haired prefect and whispered, "Pervert. If you could stop imagining me with your dick in my mouth, we'd be there already." Hibari shuddered as the hot breath washed over the bulge in his briefs. "This…this is your fault," he hissed. "You're the one…who couldn't wait."

Ryohei squeezed his hips hard enough to leave bruises. Before Hibari could complain, he dragged his tongue over the bulge. Kyoya sucked in a breath and dropped his head back as, hot tongue peeking out, Ryohei licked him from tip to base, then swirled his tongue over the head.

He pushed gently, undemanding, against the inside of Kyoya's knees, silently asking him to spread more; it earned him a brutal tug on his hair. But he did; Kyoya spread his legs, bracing himself against his lover. He wanted his underwear off, a piece of clothing that was suddenly so annoying and useless; he wanted the boxer's warm, wet, skillful mouth around him two minutes ago.

Ryohei grinned and snapped the waistband for emphasis. "You want this off, don't you?" Instead, he pulled the cloth aside and pulled Kyoya's hard, throbbing cock out. He touched the swollen member, already slick after five minutes of screwing around in the closet, with let his hot breath wash over it; he met Kyoya's eyes, dark with lust, in the dim little room, and silently dared him to force him further.


	60. Waiting

**60. Waiting || Hibari/Tsuna || K+ || 478**

At two in the morning (also known as All-Normal-People-Are-Asleep O'Clock), anywhere in the world (not at the same time, of course, but whenever it happened to be two A.M.), anyone with the sense God gave a mentally challenged rock would be asleep. Even on a night like this one, when rain mercilessly pelted the city, it was almost unthinkable that anyone in his or her right mind would be awake. Nevertheless, someone was, indeed, awake.

That someone was Vongola Decimo, the Tenth Boss of the Vongola Famiglia, Sawada Tsunayoshi.

He was sitting in a chair he'd pulled close to the windows of his room, forehead resting against the cool glass. Pellets of rain pounded against the house, and the storm raged on with a cacophony of thunder crashes and sharp winds. He sighed, his breath fogging up the window's surface. He knew he should be asleep (there was the meeting with Xanxus and the Varia *shudder* around noon, and he would need his sleep to survive it) but his mind wouldn't let him. They should be back by now.

It had been two weeks since he'd last seen them, Yamamoto, Chrome, and Hibari, and he was anxious to see that his Guardians were all right. They'd been gone on an assignment in Mexico, and they were supposed to have returned on Tuesday.

It was now early Friday morning and still no sign of them. His common sense, not to mention his Hyper Intuition, told him that he shouldn't worry, that they could take care of themselves. But he couldn't help it. It was his nature to worry about his family. Tsuna hadn't heard from them for almost a week; on Thursday, the only thing that had stopped him from going after them was Shoichi and his damn logic. That, and Ryohei knocking him out when he tried to go anyway. When he woke up, he was tied to a chair with a splitting headache. The redhead had pointed out that the three Guardians were more than capable of keeping themselves safe, the job they had been sent on was pathetically easy for them, and that if he went looking for them, chances were that all he'd accomplish would be to put himself in danger, and that wouldn't help them at all, now would it, Tsunayoshi-kun?

Damn logic.

He had the feeling that if he tried again, there would be the same result. Therefore, there was nothing for him to do now but wait. So he was sitting by the window in sweats and an overlarge T-shirt, a shirt that belongs to his absent lover, staring out the window at the storm, waiting for them to come home. Brown eyes stared up, through the water-splashed pane of glass, and landed on the copious layer of clouds blanketing the sky.

The face of the Vongola's Cloud drifted across Tsuna's mind.


	61. Chaotic

**61. Chaotic || Bel/Fran || T || 154**

Their relationship was not easy, nor was it gentle. It was crazy and violent, and maybe even fatal one day soon. Bel was harsh and vicious; he didn't hesitate to smack his little froggy around a bit, and one of his favorite things to do was bite hard enough to draw blood.

And Fran didn't mind it rough. He didn't mind the pain and blood; in fact, he even enjoyed it. He would never say so aloud, because it would only encourage the Fake Prince, but when he looking in the mirror afterwards and saw the bruises and bite-marks, and he would feel something like contentment.

Neither would ever say the words "I love you," or anything remotely similar, but that didn't mean they didn't feel it. Because for all his faults, Bel _did _love Fran, and vice versa.

Perhaps their relationship wasn't traditional, but it worked for them. It was rowdy, unorthodox, and…chaotic.


	62. Freedom

**62. Freedom || Dino/Hibari || T || 168**

Cavallone understood that his lover needed space, and he accepted it. He'd known when they started sleeping together that the relationship would be distanced, both physically and emotionally. Hibari never allowed Dino into his home unless there was something important on the table; he'd drawn a strict line between business and pleasure, with business coming first.

Still, he'd chosen to pursue the skylark, knowing the limits and risks of involving himself with Hibari Kyoya. He respected his lover's boundaries, though that didn't mean he didn't want to take the bird as his full-time lover—he did, he definitely did. Hibari would have none of it.

Dino had considered proposing on more than one occasion, but he knew that Kyoya would never accept. The Cloud would never consider tying himself down to anyone, or anything that would hinder his freedom to drift on his merry way.

That didn't stop Dino from wrapping his arms around his love in an attempt to anchor him down, if only for this moment.


	63. School

**63. School || Hibari || T || 175**

Namimori was not an easy school to go to. Oh sure, the classes weren't too hard and the teachers were nice, and you could always find a friendly face. But there was one thing—a large, dark, foreboding cloud that hovered around the school—that gave the students of Nami High nightmares.

Namely, Hibari Kyoya.

Anyone possessing the common sense God gave a mentally retarded rock knew Hibari's Rules, commonly known as the Commandments of God, and obeyed them without question.

1) Don't damage my school

2) Don't disturb the peace of my Namimori

3) Don't disturb me while I'm taking my nap

4) Don't crowd

5) Don't get in my way

The penalty to all of these was simple and easily remembered: **Or I'll Bite You To Death.**

New students were granted a period of leniency by the lethal, looming cloud and once that period ran out, they'd have better learned them. Learned them, memorized them, committed them to memory for all of eternity.

Because Hibari's Rules did not only apply to the school.


	64. Risk

**64) Risk || Byakuran/Tsuna || T || 198**

His mind was screaming _what the hell are you doing?! _but his body wasn't much in the mood for listening. Byakuran's hands were everywhere—one moment they were playing with his hair, the next they were cupping his face, sliding down his chest to work at his belt and trousers.

Their mouths connected in a deep kiss, tongues dancing in a fight for dominance; Tsuna pulled back to suck in a breath before diving back into the power struggle. He managed to blindly undo the _very _irritating buttons of Byakuran's shirt and splayed his hands against the older man's torso; he could feel hard muscles ripple under the milky skin. He pushed the black-as-coal silk shirt over Byakuran's shoulders, and the other man pulled it the rest of the way off and flung it somewhere; Tsuna didn't see where.

Arms looped around the other man's neck, head thrown back, neck exposed—he was the very picture of a willing victim, ready to be thoroughly debauched.

Sleeping with the enemy was a definite risk, one that could very possibly get him killed, but as the white-haired angel dove in and whispered his name—_"Tsunayoshi~"_—Vongola Decimo didn't much care.


	65. Dinosaur

**65) Dinosaur || Yamamoto/Gokudera || K+ || 88**

Gokudera's car was a Ferrari F40: flashy, cherry red, and could go from 0 to 100 km/h in 4.1 seconds. It was good for car chases, getaways, and showing off, three of Gokudera's favorite things. Yamamoto had lovingly named it "the Red Hurricane."

When Gokudera first heard this, he smacked the baseball nut upside his head and then soundly kissed him.

Yamamoto had a dusty, dented, beat-up old truck that was older than he was; Gokudera had taken one look at it and promptly dubbed it "the Dinosaur."


	66. Crisis

**66) Crisis || General || T || 383**

The warning lights flash, washing the scrambling personnel in a sea of red; the alarm blares, vibrating through their bones and deep into their being. You can feel the rumbling in your chest; the pulsing crimson light makes it hard to see clearly. It's chaos. You're being pushed and shoved from every direction, stumbling over your feet as you run towards the fight, not away. No, not away, because even though you have your family—your beautiful, smiling, kind wife and two beautiful, laughing, rambunctious kids—your duty to the Famiglia comes first. The only thing you can do is say a prayer under your breath and hope you survive the fight to see them again.

The metallic smell of blood is heavy in the air, mixing with smoke and fire; it fills your nose and stings your eyes, and you're choking as you run. Smoke is hanging low, thick and black, permeating every room as the bombs go off; the ground shakes beneath your feet and you have to dodge chunks of debris. You're very glad you didn't skip gym when you were in school, because otherwise it would be rather hard to run, leap, and duck without shooting yourself with your gun.

The halls are a sea of rolling bodies, sweaty and hot. Gunshots ring out, machine gun fire too; people are dropping, people you've grown to love, your brothers and sisters. You hear their cries, see their blood, and hope that someone else will help them, because you can't and you hate that.

You hear screaming, and you almost ignore it, block it out like all the rest. But this is a special scream, high and loud and you can swear your ears are bleeding; it's the lady of the house. You backtrack so quickly you stumble, and burst into the room to protect her; because she is your lady, your Boss's wife, and she deserves your protection. You must get her to safety. You're holding your gun, ready to fire, except it's too late to fire because all you see is a flash of silver and a flash of purple.

Then you're on the ground staring up, wondering how you got there and why your stomach hurts so much. You look; oh dear, that's quite a lot of blood.


	67. Shower

**67) Shower || Yamamoto/Gokudera || M || 2,028**

**For Sakimoto Ritsuko. I hope you like it, dear, because I had a helluva good time writing it.**

**"Pairing: 8059~  
Rating: Involves tongue fights and nipple teasing so maybe a M? -w-  
Prompt: Gokudera, showering. Yamamoto, stays over for studying. They are not in a relationship yet."**

**….I have to be honest. I have absolutely _no _idea how I took the prompt 'shower' and got this. So bear with me. Also, I am so, so, _so _sorry it took me so long! I've been busy.  
**

**~8059~**

Yamamoto shifted uncomfortably in his spot, tapping the table with his pencil. This was why he needed Gokudera's help, or else he was going to this course miserably. What the hell was the difference between a dependent and independent variable? Yamamoto had _thought _he'd known which was which, but then he got his test back, and now he wasn't so sure.

It didn't help that his mind was a racing engine of questions. Should he or shouldn't he?

**_I can't tell him._**

Rain pounded the windows, and usually, Yamamoto didn't mind; in fact, he loved the rain. He'd be out in the street splashing through puddles and getting soaked to his underwear. But now, it was making it impossible to concentrate. _Pat-pat-pat. _It echoed his tapping on the table, and it was really, _really _irritating. Eventually he sighed and let his pencil fall to the table; he groaned and untangled his long legs, flopping back on the floor and staring up at the ceiling of Gokudera's living room.

He wasn't as stupid or ignorant as people thought; he'd noticed the glances and flustered stuttering, and the brief smiles before the other boy caught himself. Secretly, he was thrilled; he'd been head over heels for the bomber since the day they'd met. He'd lost hope that his feelings would ever be returned, so when he'd started noticing, that spark of childish hope had flickered back to life. There was a chance that he could have something with Gokudera, he wanted to cling to that possibility with all his strength.

**_It's driving me crazy…_**

The fan was turning in lazy circles above his head, unnecessary during the storm. But then, Yamamoto didn't think Gokudera ever turned it off. Yamamoto could hear the sound of the shower in the background, and he swallowed drily; Gokudera had been drenched head to toe with muddy water when a speeding car had gone through a puddle. Yamamoto had been out of the splash zone, but Gokudera hadn't been so lucky. The baseball player had started on his homework while the bomber popped into the shower.

He sighed again and threw his arm across his eyes.

The question was, did he act on his feelings?

**_And it makes me angry._**

Gokudera sighed as he shut off the hot water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing the towel off the counter and wrapping it around his waist. Damn that car for drenching him; the first dry day in over a week and he _still _gets soaked, in goopy, muddy water nonetheless that ruins his favorite shirt.

It took him almost twenty minutes to wash it all off and untangle his hair, but he was finally, _finally, _clean. He'd gotten the gunk out of every place possible; even places he hadn't known he could _get _gunk. He doubted he'd ever been cleaner in his life. He swiped a hand through the fog on the mirror and peered into the eyes of his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot and the dark, bruise-like smudges under them made him look like a panda. And…was he paler than usual?

He looked tired, he decided.

**_Angry at myself._**

Not surprising, he mused, as he left the bathroom and into his bedroom across the hall. He grabbed up the first pair of reasonably clean clothes—that meant clothes that hadn't started smelling and wasn't too wrinkled—and threw them on. He didn't want to spend any time thinking about his appearance, because then he would have to face the reason he _would _be musing over such things. He pulled his wet hair into a messy ponytail to keep it off his shirt; at least, that was what he told himself. Because it was certainly not because he knew the baseball idiot liked it.

He'd been spending just a little too much time thinking about the baseball idiot lately—catching himself looking at him in class, listening when he was blathering on, being less sincere when he spat acidic insults. He didn't like it, especially when he started thinking of him less as the _yakubaka_ and more as Yamamoto. Whenever Yamamoto had smiled, Gokudera had felt his own mouth turn up in a smile—completely against his will. His eyes were just as traitorous, lingering on that slender, athletic body in a way that couldn't be deemed decent in any reasonable culture. And then there were those damnable dreams…Gokudera had tried a lot of things to rid himself of these perverted feelings, and nothing seemed to work.

He didn't like it because it scared him, and he hated being scared. He'd been more irritable as of late, ever since he caught himself dwelling on the Rain Guardian.

**_Angry at him._**

When he went back into his living room—if the tiny room could be called that—he was exasperated to find Yamamoto splayed out on the floor, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He was supposed to be studying while Gokudera cleaned up so they would have a finite starting point. The idiot had come requesting his help, and he would need all he could get if he was going to pass his final; Gokudera had completed all the exams the school could offer him within the first few weeks of school, and he always took great humor in watching the student body scurrying about like beetles in a tumbler.

Yamamoto had come to him desperate for help, and Gokudera, damn him, had taken one look at the big, pleading eyes and couldn't stop himself from saying yes. God help him, he was going soft; he melted into a puddle with one look of the puppy-dog eyes. That was exactly what he was doing again. He was staring down at those molten brown eyes, lit up from inside by a light singular to Yamamoto, and felt his resolve crumbling like a sand castle.

It wasn't like he didn't want to help him—he did, fuck, he _did_—but there was no fucking way he would say that to the idiot's face.

He glared down at the baseball nut, smothering his indecision and inner war with a fine layer of annoyance and dislike, and knew the moment Yamamoto flashed that grin of his that he wasn't fooling him one bit.

"Fucking moron, did you take a _nap?!"_

Yamamoto laughed and gave him a smile that had shivers radiating through him; before Gokudera could react, the baseball player reached out and wrapped his long fingers around the bomber's wrist.

**_He's too close…_**

"Wha—" Gokudera started, cut off when he was pulled with enough to force to have Gokudera stumble and land in Yamamoto's lap with a thud. He started to stand up, throw himself away before it was too late, but was stopped when Yamamoto wrapped his arms around the bomber's waist and pulled him close.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Gokudera exclaimed, struggling against the strong arms. No, no, _no, _this was wrong! He couldn't be this close to the idiot. Not if he wanted to keep his cool. He froze and his eyes widened when he felt hot breath on his neck. He recovered smoothly— "Get away from me, moron!"—sliding right back into struggling, but when Yamamoto's chest rumbled against his back, he knew he'd failed to hide it. "You sick _freak!"_

**_I don't want to hurt him, not really, but I spit acidic words at him anyway._**

He could see Yamamoto's face in the TV reflection, and he immediately regretted his words; Gokudera had called him some nasty things before and Yamamoto had always kept his signature smile, but this was different. A million emotions flashed over his handsome features, the dominant ones pain and betrayal; their eyes met in the reflection, and the bomber found himself frozen. Gokudera didn't so much relax as ceased fighting it, and the arms around his middle tightened. He flushed and his stomach tightened—oh no, not now.

**_His expression…I can't look away._**

"I—" he paused; was he really going to say this? Yes, but more than that, did he _mean _it? After a moment's thought, he realized that yeah, he did. He cleared his throat, and started over. "I'm…" Oh God, someone shoot him. He felt like a bull—or, more appropriately—a Lambo in a china shop, just crashing into everything like some clumsy oaf. Except, instead of fine china, it was his own pride and stupidity he was stumbling over. He'd seen it in the yakubaka's face; he wasn't the only one struggling with his emotions.

He shivered and swallowed when a soft kiss was pressed to the back of his neck, body automatically stiffening as a wave of heat rolled through him. He felt the other smile against his skin and another kiss followed, this time to the junction of neck and shoulder, open-mouthed, wet, and warm against his burning skin. It was a strange sensation, but almost…pleasant was close, but not the word he was looking for.

**_What's happening to me? My body is betraying me…and why don't I mind?_**

"Yamamoto!" he managed to gasp, shifting in his lap; he smirked when he felt something poking him in the back. So, he wasn't the only one enjoying this. Well, he could work with this; oh, yes, maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he let himself simply _react _for once instead of analyzing everything.

"Hmm?" Yamamoto hummed, apparently too preoccupied with giving Gokudera a large and well-placed hickie on the side of his neck to give a proper response. Gokudera forgot what he was going to say, and instead, shifted his hips again, this time grinding back against the other boy's erection, eliciting a long, deep moan. He grinned and rolled his hips again, and then groaned when teeth sank into the curve of his shoulder, breaking the skin and sending a sharp pain through his muscle that he didn't dislike. Oh yeah, that got a reaction out of the bastard.

His triumph was short lived, however, because in the next instant, he found himself lying on his back on the carpet with Yamamoto looming over him—eyes darkened with lust, face flushed. Something in the back of Gokudera's mind was yelling at him—shouting at him—that this was such an incredibly bad idea, that he should shove Yamamoto away and shove his barriers back into place. This was a bad idea, a _really _bad idea.

**_Is it okay for us to be doing this?_**

Gokudera found that he didn't much care about the questions when Yamamoto cupped his face in one hand and brought their mouths together. The lips against his were warm and soft, and, for the moment, timid. It was comforting, knowing even as he started to kiss back that he could pull away, especially after everything he'd gone through. _This shit's gotta stop. _Gokudera linked his arms around the other teen's neck and yanked him down into a harsh liplock. Lips would be bruised, teeth clacked together, and he tasted blood; he didn't know whose. It didn't matter, because whatever barrier was between them shattered.

**_I don't want to pull away; I don't want him to stop. But we can't do this…why can't we do this?_**

He wasn't quite sure what happened next, because there were teeth and hands everywhere, and he wasn't sure whose were whose. Years of suppressed tension, sexual and otherwise, pumped through them by way of sloppy and intense kisses and blatant groping. Gokudera gasped and arched against the other when calloused fingers tweaked his nipple, and he felt Yamamoto smirk against his neck; he rolled the hardened nub between his fingers and leaned down to take the other into his mouth. Gokudera gripped Yamamoto's shoulders, hard enough to be painful—it would certainly leave bruises; the baseball player didn't complain. He only swirled his tongue around and pinched the other nipple before trailing his hand down a trembling stomach to rest on the bulge in the bomber's skinny jeans.

"Let's move this to the bed, hmm?" he murmured against Gokudera's chest. Gokudera wrenched his head up and smashed their lips together. "Fuck yeah," he gasped when they separated.


	68. Death

**68) Death || TYL!Tsuna/TYL!Enma || T || 495**

You bastard. You absolute _bastard. _How could you do this to me? _How? _Here I am, kneeling at your grave in the wet grass, completely ruining my slacks, and that's all I can think about. How on God's Earth could you just up and _die _on me? You promised, you bastard; you promised you would never leave me, and I believed you, _dammit_! What happened, pray tell, that made you break that promise?

There's water on my face and I can't tell the rain and the tears apart anymore. My vision is blurry; I can barely make out the inscription on your headstone. I know you aren't really buried here, but no one else can know, and it would look suspicious if I was spotted making the long trek into the forest. Mostly because I'm supposed to be dead, too. Dead men, the both of us; I remember I made that joke once. I'm dead because I supposedly died ten years ago in the fight with the Vongola; you're dead because we both know you were destined to die young. But not this young; not only twenty-five. I was supposed to be the dead one, remember? Not you. Never you. You were supposed to _live, _because if you don't live, neither can I.

Adelheid is telling me that we should get going, because it's raining and I'm going to ruin my suit, and I have a meeting with your Guardians in less than an hour. I barely hear the words over the blood pounding in my ears, and it takes several long seconds for her meaning to sink in, to penetrate the fog of pain, misery, and emptiness that has seemed to fill me since your death. Since you goddamn arranged your death, and you didn't even tell me, you utter and complete _bastard._

Hibari-san told me; your Guardians don't even know. How could you do that to them, to me? Was I not supposed to know? Did I really mean so little to you that you couldn't tell me yourself what you were going to do? I hope this plan you concocted works, I hope to _God _that your younger self can defeat that motherfucker Byakuran. I know you were worried about bringing kids into this—you _hated _having to send Lambo into the line of fire—but don't worry too much, please. I'll watch over them. They won't know it—because we wouldn't want to fuck up the precious time-space continuum _too _much, would we, _bastard_—but I will. No one else is going to die in this war if I can help it; I would say 'over my dead body,' but really, it's over _yours, _isn't it? Is the advantage over the Millefiore really so important that you had to commit fucking suicide to get it?

I hope it is, because if you and Hibari-san and Irie-san are _wrong, _and this _doesn't_ work, I'm going to kill you, you absolute _bastard._

_**I'M BAAACK!**  
_


	69. Lace

**69) Lace || Dino/Fem!Hibari || K+ || 151**

She looked between the twinkling eyes and the box he was holding out. With an exasperated sigh, she took it and tore off the wrapping, paying no heed to the intricate design or the silky ribbon. She flung the lid at him and, with a raised eyebrow, lifted out the contents.

"Absolutely not," she said.

"Oh, please?!" he begged, trying and failing to keep the grin off his face.

She scowled. "You, Cavallone, are a pervert." He managed to look hurt for about a second before his grin crept back onto his face. "What's your evidence, Kyo-chan?"

She snorted. "You're giving gifts like this—" she shook the lace thong and matching push-up bra— "to your underage girlfriend in the hopes of getting lucky."

He gasped exaggeratedly, feigning being wounded; Kusakabe surreptitiously slid out of the office. This was a conversation between the Italian Don and his angry boss concerning parts of her that were _none _of his business.


	70. Jealousy

**70) Jealousy || Dino/Hibari || T || 121**

Hibari Kyoya did not do jealousy. It was a weakness, an herbivore's emotion. It did not help him win a fight or top his lover; it did not crush his enemies or strengthen his blows. He simply did not experience it.

That burning behind his eyes and the tightening in his stomach when he watched his lover flirt with the visiting Capo's daughter—young, single, _breakable_—was nothing more than the start of a fever. The ache in his chest was only his healing ribs.

When he slammed Dino up against the wall of his office and claimed his mouth roughly, biting and drawing blood, it was only because he'd had a bit too much wine.

It was _definitely_ not jealousy.


End file.
